Sands of Devotion
by Dendraica
Summary: There's trouble in Agrabah, and Sadira unknowingly runs straight into the thick of it. Complications arise in the form of an accidental love-spell. In the meantime, Aladdin learns what it truly means to be Sultan of Agrabah, as a serious threat begins winding its way to the city.
1. Chapter 1

She'd only heard of the wizard from gossip and warnings from her friends, but that morning the earth shifted beneath her feet on the way to the marketplace - in a way that meant trouble. The sands were telling her something, and there was something unusual about the grains in certain areas - as though they'd been burnt black. Sadira had scooped up a handful, watching the black grains roll away on the surface of her palm as though they were living things.

Somebody was here who wasn't supposed to be here, anymore than this sand was. She went back into her home and grabbed a pouch of spell-sand she had enchanted. According to the Scrolls, if she'd done it right, the sand should 'put danger into slumber'. She'd run out of echidna quills, but it said she could use powdered ash-winder eggshells instead. One puff of sand in the intruder's face, and he'd drop like a rock.

It wasn't hard to pinpoint the center of mayhem. One would think Agrabah's citizens were hardened off to frightening creatures, but no - they screamed and carried on just as if there had never been a floating eel snapping at their heads. Wait . . . floating eel?

Sadira paused, staring at the small creature as it flew about, giggling to itself. This was the source of all the fuss? It looked like someone's exotic pet had gotten out to do mischief. Mentally equating Agrabah's people to a flock of panicky chickens, she picked up a bunch of grapes from an abandoned stand. "Come here, little guy. Ya hungry?"

The eel blinked at her in surprise and snarled, flying toward her menacingly. He didn't bite or snap, just twisted in complicated designs, hoping to send her screaming like the rest of them. Sadira smirked. The little thing perhaps didn't realize how cute he was. "Oh come on, I know you escaped from someone. Now eat these grapes, you've got to be thirsty flying through the dry air like that. Where did you come from?"

"He's with me," a dryly amused voice behind her stated. Sadira did not whirl, but she looked over her shoulder, still holding the grapes up enticingly. There was a wizard behind her, a young man dressed in blue and black. He looked handsome enough, but his eyes were cold. Sadira suppressed a shiver.

The boy smiled at her as he walked to stand beside her, and as haughty as his smile was, there was a small note of admiration in it. "So you don't find Xerxes frightening enough to run away like the others?"

"Frightening?" Sadira snorted as the eel took his cue to snarl again, trying to appear twice as terrifying as before. He was trying a little too hard, making his eyes bug out with effort. "If you're trying to measure how frightening he is, don't bother coming to Agrabah. That's like running toward a flock of pigeons and then being proud you got them to fly away."

The young man raised an eyebrow, his smile growing a little wider. "Well put. You're certainly not like any woman I've met. Even the brave ones would sooner try and strike or catch Xerxes. Here you are offering him grapes, while he threatens to bite off your nose."

"Pff. Please. Xerxes is adorable."

Both eyebrows went up this time and the wizard shoulders seemed to start shaking. After a moment it became evident that he was laughing, and he'd half-turned away to try and hide it. "A-Adorable?" he managed, gloved hand covering his smirk. "You really are different."

Xerxes had deflated, of course after accidentally tying himself into a knot with his exertions, and he looked up at his master pitifully from the ground. "Xerxes not adorable," he pleaded, whining.

The boy only laughed harder. "She seems to think so."

Disgruntled, Xerxes turned his yellow eyes to Sadira and sniffed. "She have magic. She dangerous! Mozenrath not trust her!"

Sadira stiffened even as the smile slipped off the sorcerer's face. So this was Mozenrath? The Mozenrath? She groaned, thinking of the grains she'd seen earlier. "The Black Sands . . . of course. You're the Lord of that place," she muttered.

"I'd introduce myself formally, but I see that isn't necessary," Mozenrath said coldly, turning to her. "My familiar is right to warn me." He grabbed her wrists, forcing Sadira to drop the grapes. Xerxes snatched them up, munching on them as he watched with gleeful vengeance. "So what magic do you possess that you think holds a candle to mine?" he demanded.

Sadira huffed. Mozenrath had a reason to be suspicious - not even a novice would have stumbled so blindly into the presence of more a powerful sorcerer without announcing their intent; to either challenge or learn from their superior. Not unless they hoped to perform an underhanded attack by passing themselves off as a non-magical bystander. As dishonorable as that was, it had surprisingly worked more than once to win a duel.

"I'm a Witch of the Sands," she admitted. "An apprentice."

"Obviously," Mozenrath sneered, backing her against the wall. "Yet how can you be an apprentice if they're gone? Destane got rid of them himself."

"He didn't get rid of their scrolls, did he?" she said, raising her chin. Sadira wished her hands were free so she could slap that condescending smile off Mozenraths' face.

It left his face on its own at her words. "You mean to tell me you not only found the scrolls, but you read them and simply . . . learned on your own? No, you must be lying. Someone must have taught you."

"Taught me to read, yes. That's it. And if I'd known it was you and your familiar terrorizing the marketplace, I wouldn't have involved myself at all! I have better things to do than talk to an arrogant, egotistical, blue-blood who has nothing better to occupy his time with than chasing after flabby faint-hearted vendors and merchants. Are you really so bored at home?!"

Mozenrath's expression went from vaguely impressed to annoyed. "Do you really have to talk so much?" he countered flatly. He released his hold on her wrists though, and stood back, much to Xerxes' disappointment.

The eel sought to curl around Mozenrath's shoulders, but he was batted away even as he felt the familiar tang of magic. His master was preparing for battle! So it wasn't over then! Grinning sharply, he flew up to rest on a cloth awning that would give him the best vantage point.

"So you've studied, have you? Well, let's see how much you've learned, Witch of the Sand."

He shot a bolt at Sadira, who thankfully had sensed the magic building up herself. She turned to sand and disappeared, rising in a column behind Mozenrath and then falling in her human shape to apply her weight in a hard kick between the shoulder blades.

Surprised, Mozenrath barely caught himself before he could be sent sprawling. He had thought for a moment that she'd simply run away and he would have to hunt for her. And despite being a novice, she seemed to have mastered the disorientation that came with transforming from sand to flesh. She'd even managed to keep her clothes on. Pity, that.

Well, two could play at this game. He shot another bolt at her, and when she disappeared again, so did he, reappearing on top of a nearby roof. Mozenrath could manipulate himself into both thin air and black sand, but he wasn't going to use any element that his opponent had a mastery of. She could use the sand to trap and enslave him, and that certainly wasn't ever going to happen to him.

Sadira didn't appear again down below, and as he searched, he felt a stir in the sand behind him. Mozenrath turned and blasted a bolt at it before she could form into flesh, singing the area black. So much for the little Witch, then. He almost lamented his quick reflexes; this could have been more fun.

All of a sudden, arms snaked around his waist and chest and he realized that he was standing on the edge of the building. She pulled them both backwards, holding onto him tightly as he tried to struggle away. They fell the short distance to the ground, Sadira turning back into sand and Mozenrath unable to turn into anything.

He was half-cushioned by the sand that had once been her body, but pain flared through his ribs and back nevertheless. The Gauntlet was to blame for his frail state, but he was going to take his anger out on that accursed witch!

Xerxes was making concerned noises from his position, but he was too well-trained to get involved - at least not until Mozenrath ordered him to. And the young wizard was determined that he would best this opponent himself. Agonizingly getting to his feet, he felt around himself for her presence, rather than simply trusting his eyes. That had been a painful lesson that he wasn't about to repeat.

She appeared before him this time and before he could blast her with the Gauntlet, she'd thrown something in his face. Mozenrath sputtered and closed his stinging eyes, railing curses in his head against this upstart little _wench_, who'd dared to use such a low and dishonorable attack - really, a child would have resorted to throwing sand in one's face! He forced his eyes to water, knowing better than to rub the grains out, and readied himself for attack.

No attack came and the stinging went away as soon as it had started. Mozenrath cautiously blinked open his eyes and saw her still standing there, waiting expectantly.

He smirked. "You should have run," he said, pleased to see her eyes open with dismay as he raised his Gauntlet.

Sadira nearly took his advice in her panic as the sand failed to drop him into sleep. She had seen that he was injured from the fall and trying not to show weakness, but there were spasms and tremors racing through his shoulders and back as he stood still. At the time, she'd been too angry that he'd tried to kill her to care whether he couldn't transform out of harm's way. Guiltily, she'd resolved to end the fight by using the enchanted sand in her pouch so she could take him someplace to be healed.

Instead, the sand wasn't working. Mozenrath was going to kill her now, if he didn't fall down from his back injury first.

Neither happened.

The rage in Mozenrath's eyes suddenly filtered out, replaced by something unreadable. He lowered his Gauntlet, and Sadira paled - wondering if he was going to do something crueler than simply blast her out of existence.

From far off in the sky, she heard the shout of her name. Aladdin? He was coming to her rescue. Good. Sadira backed away as Mozenrath stepped forward, hoping Aladdin would simply swoop her up and fly away and knowing that was unlikely. He was a _boy_ and he would _defend_ her. The idiot.

Mozenrath's gaze was smoky now, but just as clear as it had ever been. The back of Sadira's ankle caught on a stone step and she started to fall backwards. Arms caught her from harm, but they weren't Aladdin's.

One around her waist, the other on the back of her neck and she could smell desert wind and the smell of lightning just before it hit and the paper of old books. Mozenrath's lips brushed hers and Sadira opened them, whether to squawk in protest or ask what in the seven deserts he thought he was doing, and then he was kissing her.

He. Was. Kissing. Her.

Her body arched up, eyes fluttering, fingers and toes curling and she . . . oh by Allah, why did the jerk have to be so good at this? More importantly, why was he doing this?! Her mind raced toward the only possible snag she could think of. The spell's ingredients - she'd run out of arrowroot, but it had said she could use ashwinder eggshells for a similar effect. A similar effect? WHAT effect?

As though from far away Sadira heard Aladdin's voice raising in challenge. "Mozenrath, you-!" He broke off with a confused tone, actually seeing what was going on. ". . . _Mozenrath?!"_

"I thought he was bohemian*," Genie muttered, once he'd literally winched his jaw back up to his face. Aladdin was too shocked to ask what he meant by that.

Sadira felt Mozenrath deepen the kiss, which thoroughly distracted her from her mental catalogue of what had gone wrong. Allah damn it . . . focus, girl . . .

Ashwinder eggs. That was the key. Sadira's mind raced through the potions they were commonly used in, and when she found a connection, she groaned into Mozenrath's mouth.

"It's alright," he breathed, breaking the kiss to look at her. "Nobody will harm you or steal you away. Certainly not that one," Mozenrath looked up at Aladdin dangerously, arms wrapping around Sadira protectively. She could feel slight spasms still traveling through the muscles in his back and felt an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Of course Mozenrath was going to 'protect' her, no matter what amount pain he was in. Because she'd just thrown a very powerful love-spell into his face. Sadira groaned and dropped her forehead against his shoulder.

Allah damn it _all . . ._


	2. Chapter 2

"What exactly is going on here?" Aladdin asked, making Carpet fly him down to their level. Abu clambered up his leg, glaring suspiciously at Mozenrath.

"None of your concern, Aladdin," the wizard replied coldly, stepping in front of Sadira. "I am causing no trouble."

The answer wasn't enough for Aladdin. He tried looking over Mozenrath's shoulder at Sadira. "Are you alright? He hasn't harmed you?"

"As if I would ever! But I wouldn't think twice about harming you!" Mozenrath raised his gauntlet to fire a blast, but Sadira grabbed his arm and pulled it down. He winced at the action, but did not rebuke her.

"Mozenrath, don't hurt them. They're my friends," Sadira protested, and he looked at her in consternation.

"Them?! Why? You don't need _them!_" the young wizard scoffed. "You're powerful enough not to need mundane friends such as these."

"Hey! Who are you calling mundane!" Genie protested, indignantly puffing himself up.

Mozenrath ignored him utterly, taking her hand. "But you have _my_ service, now and forever," he said lowly, in a tone that made Sadira's ears redden slightly.

"Oh, get a load of Romeo, over here," Iago snorted, having caught up to them. He'd landed on Genie's shoulder, looking irritated and out of breath. "The guards are on their way, and the kid's just gonna stand there misty-eyed!"

Frowning, Genie clamped Iago's beak shut with his fingers. Mozenrath flared up his gauntlet, having heard Iago's impromptu warning. Xerxes floated quickly over to his master. "Guards! We go home!"

"Come with us, Sadira," he turned to her, taking her hand. "You'll be safer at the Citadel."

"No, Mozenrath, these are my _friends_. I'm staying with them," Sadira said firmly, removing herself from his reach. Mozenrath instantly looked stricken, and she found herself hoping the love-spell wasn't permanent. Cause he was cute and all, but just a little presumptuous. She had cast the spell, however accidental, on _him_ – not the other way around. And Sadira wasn't going anywhere near the Black Sands, cute wizard or no.

"Do you two _know_ each other?" Aladdin asked, confused by their familiarity.

"Aladdin, I'll explain later. Mozenrath, just _go!_ I'm not going to get arrested, but you will!"

He did not, lowering his gauntlet, Xerxes twisting himself into figure eights of anxiety. "I can't leave. How do I know you'll be safe?"

Sadira wanted to pull out her hair. This spell was apparently just as powerful as she'd feared. He wouldn't be able to leave her side, even if she commanded it – not if he thought she was in danger. "I'm not in any trouble," she explained still keeping carefully out of reach, "but you have to go!"

"Don't waste your breath, Sadira. When Mozenrath wants something, he goes for it. Let the guards take him if he's so eager to see our dungeons." Aladdin grabbed Sadira's hand and pulled her onto Carpet, lifting both of them back into the sky. Flaring with anger that Aladdin had dared lay a hand on Sadira, Mozenrath raised his gauntlet to fire a blast at him. Instead, he felt hands grab him and force him to his knees. Sadira groaned, her warning dying on her tongue even as she saw it was too late. Xerxes hissed and tried biting the hands that held his master down before he was grabbed and stuffed into a sack.

"Good job, men," Razoul said, once Mozenrath had been detained. "One less dangerous threat to Agrabah." He stood in front of the wizard, smirking and Mozenrath glared hotly up at him. His fingers flicked behind him and the two men holding onto him. They flew away from him with a blast of magic and Mozenrath sent Razoul flying likewise.

"Mozenrath, stop!" Sadira shouted, and this time the wizard actually paused, gauntlet still glowing. He looked up at her, seeing that she was safe – despite being in Aladdin's sorry company. The guards surrounded him still, but they were circling warily and Mozenrath wasn't about to lower his defenses any time soon.

She turned to Aladdin desperately. "Look, I don't really like him the way he likes me, but that's my fault and I will explain later! But how do I keep him from getting killed?!" she whispered fiercely.

Aladdin's eyes softened when he saw how upset she was at the thought of causing someone's death. Even though he thought Mozenrath deserved whatever he brought upon himself, Sadira didn't deserve to feel one speck of guilt over the ruthless jackal.

"Tell him to go with Razoul's men and to hand over the Gauntlet to you. If he can show good faith, then I'll talk to Sultan for him - and I'll at least make sure he isn't put to death," he whispered back.

Sadira's stomach fluttered with worry, but she nodded and Carpet floated them down to Mozenrath's side. He looked at her, seeming to already know what was on her mind. "What is it you want me to do?" he asked, voice low and definitely unhappy with the situation. But she had no doubt he'd do it.

"I - I want you to give me your gauntlet."

His eyes widened and he tensed visibly, as did Aladdin – who was sensing Mozenrath would show his true colors over _this_ request more than any other. "You must promise me two things, Sadira," he said, seriously. "That you will not put it on, _no matter what._ And that if I give you the gauntlet, you will take Xerxes with you. He will not attack you, I will make it painfully clear to him what will happen if he does. But I do want him there to protect you . . . just in case."

For the second time that day, Genie's jaw dropped level with his waistband and he had to conjure a winch. Aladdin's dropped just a little too, though within the bounds of reality. "You're just giving it to her?!"

"Don't let _him_ touch it either," Mozenrath said to her, ignoring him. Bracing himself, he took off the gauntlet and handed it to Sadira. She took it, staring wide-eyed at his fleshless arm. "_That_ is why you mustn't wear it," he said, in a more gentle tone than Aladdin had ever heard the wizard use. He was obviously not happy she had seen the state of his arm, but he held it up so she could get a better look, wishing to put a clear emphasis on his warning. "I would not wish this to happen to you."

Sadira swallowed and gestured for a guard to hand her the bag with Xerxes in it. Mozenrath touched it with his good hand, whispering lowly and menacingly. The bag stopped its panicked squealing abruptly. It shivered once, then was still. "Don't let him out until you get back to the palace. I don't want him to fight for me."

He regarded her solemnly for a moment and turned back to face Razoul's men. Stunned, Sadira softly thanked him as Carpet moved them out of the way. She thought she saw him smile faintly.

"Enough chit-chat! I want him in chains!" Razoul snapped then and once more the guard converged upon Mozenrath, who did not fight back this time. They were oddly gentle at first, but then forced him to lie on the cobbles and wound the chain around his arms, binding them tightly behind his back and even chaining his ankles. Razoul put a sack over his head, tying it tightly at Mozenrath's throat. He struggled a little at that, but not enough to make much of a difference.

Efficiently hobbled, Mozenrath was forced up and half-dragged, half-carried toward the palace. Razoul strutted ahead, as though he and his men were solely responsible for the capture, never minding that Mozenrath had turned _himself_ in.

Sadira could hardly watch and she hugged the sack to her chest, feeling Xerxes tremble inside. The familiar had to have at least heard some of that. "They won't hurt him further, will they?"

"Not if he doesn't give them reason to," Aladdin reassured her, though he and she both knew that meant little. "We should go to the Palace and talk to Sultan." He found that he was just a little concerned himself for Mozenrath. The man was still obviously dangerous, but he'd seen Mozenrath's eyes while he'd talked to Sadira. Aladdin could not deny the love he'd seen in them.

Still, it was an impossible thought – Mozenrath, _in love?_ Sadira looked utterly miserable, not that he could blame her.

"On the way, maybe you should tell us what happened?" he prompted gently, putting a friendly arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and told all.

* * *

Mozenrath yelped as he was shoved into the dank room, still blinded by the sack and unable to stop himself from falling to his knees – skinning them painfully.

"You either have lost your mind, wizard, or you've gotten exceptionally stupid," Razoul sneered, folding his arms. "You do realize the charges against you can only mean one thing?"

He signaled for another guard to take off the sack. Mozenrath breathed in relief – the cloth had smelled like rotten turnips and the cord around his neck had hurt. Kneeling hurt his back as well, but it was better than being dragged.

"Death, I suppose?"

"Yes, that is, if the Sultan doesn't decide to hand you over to another kingdom. We can't have been the only ones you've attacked."

"No, you're not," Mozenrath answered, flippantly. He refused to show fear to a man such as this. Razoul raised an eyebrow at him, apparently recognizing Mozenrath as _that type_ of prisoner.

"I suppose you think you're going to be waiting in a nice comfy cell until Aladdin and your dear street mouse _somehow_ convince the Sultan that you're not a criminal?"

"'Comfy?' Hardly. And do not refer to her in that way, if you value your tongue," Mozenrath sneered.

Razoul only smirked. "There's only one courtesy we offer in Agrabah to a high-profile criminal awaiting the Sultan's justice, such as yourself. And there's one punishment in particular that I feel is perfect for you." The man got close, much closer than Mozenrath was comfortable with and he tried to back away, bristling.

"And that is?"

Instead of answering, Razoul wrapped a large hand around Mozenrath's throat and forced him to step backwards up the steps of a small platform that two guards had carried into the room. On the ceiling, there was a thick iron pulley and a chain that hung over and down from it, ending in a hook. The guards unchained Mozenrath's arms from behind him as Razoul held onto him tightly, transferring his grip to Mozenrath's hair.

He was forced to bend forward as his shirt and cloak were roughly removed, sending his back muscles flaring with pain. His good arm was positioned across his chest, left wrist pressed against his right hip and tied to his waist. Razoul forced his fleshless arm above his head, looping the hook through the radius and ulna of his bone arm and reconnecting it to the chain.

Mozenrath still kept a cold sneer on his face, though his heart was pounding in fear. He didn't like the feel of metal links grating through the bones of his arm and it only got worse as a guard pulled the chain taut, forcing him to stand on the balls of his feet. He hissed in agony, but the worst was yet to come.

Barely able to transfer the weight to his toes, he was on the edge of the platform, in constant danger of falling down to the next step and thereby hanging solely by his exposed bones – an act that could easily shatter them if he miss-stepped. And if that was not enough, Razoul had picked up a scourge tipped with small beads of metal. He moved around behind Mozenrath, limbering up and snapping at the air.

At that, the young wizard could not help flinching, no longer able to keep a composed expression. His back was spasming still from the fight earlier, and as hard as he fought against it, his body further trembled in terror of the pain that would be added to his injuries.

With a dark grin, Razoul raised the scourge, and did not disappoint.

* * *

Sadira had told Aladdin what happened on the way to the Palace, and she told it again to Jasmine and her father as they all sat together at the table. The servants had prepared a sumptuous midday feast for them, with delicacies that Sadira had only ever dreamed of. But she only picked at her plate, too worried to eat. Her petition was not going well.

"I still don't understand, my dear," the Sultan was saying, in his usual gentle tone. "Why is it so imperative that I release Mozenrath? Spare him from death, perhaps, but _release_ him? Heavens, do you know how many attempts he's made on my daughter's life? On mine? No, I simply cannot just let him go."

"Sultan, please. You forgave _me._ I have caused harm to Agrabah too," Sadira beseeched.

"Well, you haven't done nearly as much harm as this young man has. I forgave you because my daughter and Aladdin did, and you seem to have mended your ways nicely. And didn't you mention a love-spell? You have enchanted this boy – unwittingly as it may have been – but the fact still remains that it is a _spell_ and it can wear off eventually, or be reversed. And then where would we be? Mozenrath would perhaps attack Agrabah with an even darker vengeance than before – to salvage his pride. No, my dear, we cannot afford to let him go."

"But he gave up the gauntlet. He turned himself in, for me! I don't think he should be imprisoned for that. He showed good faith."

"To you, not to Agrabah. And again, for only as long as the spell lasts. My dear, my word is final on this. I am sorry. Perhaps he has the capability of being a nice young man, but as long as this spell is in place, well we can't know for certain," the Sultan said firmly.

Sadira thought for a moment, desperate to find some way. _Any_ way to get Mozenrath out of this mess. It was all her fault, after all. Sure, he had been a jerk up until the spell hit, but there were many kinds of love. The spell didn't dictate whether he be a possessive, selfish and jealous lover or whether he'd be a trusting, gentle and caring one. And he had surrendered completely when she'd asked him to turn himself in. She hadn't even assured him that she would get him out – he had just _trusted_ her.

As she debated her next words, it was Iago who came to her rescue, surprisingly.

"Hey, Sultan, you remember Jafar?"

"Naturally," the Sultan answered, just a little coldly. "How could I forget?"

"Well, he was a sorcerer, but I mean even though he was evil – he _still_ did things for Agrabah. Things you didn't even know about because he had to hide the fact he could do magic."

Sadira and Aladdin both tried to give Iago quelling looks, as the Sultan's frown grew deeper. "I am sure this has a point, but you had best get to it _quickly_, Iago," the ruler of Agrabah warned.

"I'm getting' there! Anyhow, there was a huge sandstorm that would have dredged the city for months, blocked off all trade routes, destroyed buildings, yadda yadda. Jafar told you about it, then later he came up and told you that the sandstorm had 'miraculously' moved around Agrabah, am I right? I sure as heck remember the party that followed! Whoo, that was a good party." Iago took in the Sultan's skeptical and decidedly stormy countenance and hurried on. "But anyway, he's the reason the sandstorm passed by. And lets not forget that big drought about ten years back, Agrabah was high and dry for nearly two months. The merchants were starting to charge way too much for imported water and Jafar got tired of it and pulled rain clouds in. He did it after he suggested empty barrels be put out, to fill with rationed water from the city well so people would stop fallin' over. And whadda coincidence, it rained enough to fill both the well reservoir and all the barrels, enough to last us to the monsoon seasons. Not to even _mention_ the barbarian raids that he misdirected, the countless other wizards that he stopped from tryin' to take over, and plots from within to attack either you or Princess Jasmine."

"Why- why - what on earth – do you really mean to tell me that – that treacherous snake of a man _protected_ Agrabah!? For all those years, he protected us while he plotted to overthrow us?"

"Well, yeah, he was still gonna overthrow you, but _he_ wanted to do it, see? He wasn't going to let anyone else or anything else destroy what he saw as _his_. Look, that's not the point!" Iago said, before the Sultan could start shouting at him. "The point is that Jafar was a sorcerer and he could do great things for Agrabah if he wanted to. Mozenrath is a sorcerer, and he's currently infatuated with Sadira, a Witch of the Sands, who happens to be friends with Agrabah's rulers, both future and current. _Her_ interests, are _his_ interests! I'm just sayin', it could work to Agrabah's advantage, at least while it lasts!"

"Birdman's got a point," Genie conceded. "He'd make a better frenemy than an enemy."

"Actually, I was more goin' for powerfully magic love-slave, but frenemy works," Iago shrugged. The Sultan looked thoughtful.

"I can't do that!" Sadira sputtered, horrified that the conversation was taking this turn. "It's completely horrible, it's – I mean, to _use_ him like that? We can't!" She turned to her friends for moral support. Aladdin and Jasmine looked at one another and then back to her.

"Sadira, I know it sounds awful," Jasmine offered. "But maybe this is a chance for Mozenrath to redeem himself. What does he have to go home to right now if we were to release him? A horrible Citadel in a dead land, and a bunch of undead guards."

"Yeah, he probably went nuts out there, all by himself. Especially if he was trained by Destane. Man, you guys think Jafar was bad? Destane was at least ten times worse! It's a miracle he never turned his attention to Agrabah, cause if he had, Jafar wouldn't have stuck around for Al to kick his butt. Come to think of it, Agrabah probably wouldn't be here either. I can't even imagine what it must've done to the kid's mind to _live_ with Destane."

"Destane very evil," Xerxes piped up, and all heads turned toward him. Sadira frowned and offered him a piece of cheese from the table, but he turned his head away – obviously depressed. He did sidle a little closer though. "Mozenrath overthrow Destane because . . . because he have no choice. Destane kill someone important to Mozenrath."

"Why?" Sadira asked. Xerxes looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head slowly as if trying to recall.

"Hard to say. Mozenrath not even remember. Xerxes knows. . . Destane angry about books. In library, missing. Angry about . . . someone. Mozenrath argue, get punished. Cry in dark, in chains – cry for . . . for friend. Fog, nothing. Green laughing eyes. Then Mozenrath have Gauntlet and go to find friend. But friend gone, Master find Destane instead. Mozenrath kill him, bring Destane back as Mamluk. Then Gauntlet ate flesh - poor Master, he scream, fall down. Xerxes cannot remember anything else, except take Mozenrath home with Mamluk's help."

Sadira and the others were quiet for a long moment.

"So he was trying to save someone he cared about. That's what started all this," Aladdin murmured. "Xerxes, was Mozenrath good before . . . before the Gauntlet?"

"Mozenrath only ever have one friend. And also Xerxes. Can't remember anything else. Fog. All white fog and green eyes if Xerxes try too hard." The eel hung his head, looking ashamed.

"Thank you, Xerxes. Let us know if you remember more, okay?" Sadira said reaching out to touch him. He shied away from her, but not by much.

"It sounds as though that young man has indeed lead a very troubling life," the Sultan sighed, resting his hands over his paunch. "Well, Sadira, I am still worried about that spell. If it wears off, do you think you can keep him from attacking Agrabah?"

"I know I can," she said, with more confidence than she felt. She still didn't like the idea of keeping the spell on him, but in light of the new information, she didn't really want him to go back to such a place of evil. And in any case, the promise would at least get him out of the dungeon for now.

"And if not, I can put the varmint in his place, right enough," Genie added, blowing smoke off an imaginary finger-gun.

"Very well then, you have my trust. I shall have rooms prepared for him as well as yourself – he'll be staying here where we can keep an eye on him. As should you, young lady. After all, you're the one he's so enamored with," he chuckled, winking at her.

Sadira blushed, ducking her head and mumbling.

"Are you alright?" Jasmine asked tenderly.

"M'fine, I'm just not used to anyone liking me in that way. And I shouldn't let it get to my head. It's only a spell, after all."

Jasmine turned serious, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Oh Sadira, you're a wonderful, beautiful lady. I'm sure when you meet the right man, you aren't going to need a spell to make him fall for you. This is just a temporary thing. We should all try to befriend Mozenrath while he's here, but he's not your only choice."

"Yeah, not like we're going to make you marry him," Aladdin teased gently.

"Oh, jeez! Can you imagine _that_ wedding?" Iago barked. "Mamluks dressed up as flower-maids, skipping down the aisles, scattering petals _and_ limbs in every direction!" He nearly fell off his perch cackling, and the others joined in, unable not to laugh at such a ridiculous notion. Even Xerxes managed a snicker, lowering himself onto a pillow next to Sadira. He curled up, resting his chin on his tail, and when she stroked his scales, he didn't jerk away.

The little eel missed Mozenrath, and he was probably worried sick about him. Sadira felt sorry for him and she was starting to see how close the two of them were. Mozenrath had wanted to protect his familiar as well as her – otherwise he wouldn't have made her take him.

She resolved to make sure Xerxes got to see him as soon as they'd released Mozenrath from the dungeon. It could only be good for the both of them.

* * *

"Had enough?" Razoul purred, shaking the scourge lightly over the floor. Specks of blood and skin flew off of it, spattering the grey stone. Mozenrath hitched and couldn't seem to stop keening lowly in the back of his throat. His back was a mess of sheer agony, from deep surface wounds all the way to his muscles, and that was to say nothing about his right arm. Fire – white hot fire – lanced continually from the tips of his fingers down his entire arm and into his shoulder. His legs had cramped several times as he struggled not to slip down the steps, but he'd managed not to. Barely.

"Please, please!" Mozenrath's lips formed the words, but he was proud that they were inaudible.

"I didn't hear you, wizard. I will keep this up until you either die, pass out, or until the Sultan sends down a written pardon. You could try _begging_ though. You could beg very prettily, if you wanted to. The longer you entertain me, the longer a break you'll have until the next round."

Mozenrath grit his teeth, giving his answer, but he wasn't sure how long he could keep it up. Blood and sweat had spattered the platform beneath his feet and made it slick. Above all else, the thought of destroying or snapping the bones of his arm apart scared him senseless. He'd always carried a secret longing that he would find a way to restore his arm somehow, and if the bones were snapped off, it would be the final nail in that coffin of that particular hope. However unlikely that it would happen, regaining his arm was a hope he couldn't bear to lose completely.

"Very well. Hope you think about it longer next time." Razoul raised the scourge again and Mozenrath cried out as it sliced down, unable to stop himself. Neither he or Razoul heard footsteps approaching the cells over Mozenrath's screams, but he did hear Aladdin's shout of anger.

"Razoul! Let him down!"

The captain of the guard turned in surprise, but frowned when he saw Aladdin in the doorway, accompanied by the little street mouse from earlier. She saw Mozenrath and cried out, running to him.

"You had no right to torture him!" Aladdin snapped, though he knew it was a lost cause.

"I had no orders _not_ to," Razoul countered. "And I still have no orders concerning the same, unless you have a writ from the Sultan himself. According to common law, criminals of his caliber are to be tortured until death or execution. He has attacked Agrabah countless times-"

He was interrupted by a stream of curses directed at him from Sadira, who'd seen what they'd done to the bones of Mozenrath's arm. She turned to glare poisonously at him. "Yes, we have a pardon from the Sultan," she hissed, "and Aladdin can produce it, but I swear by the Inner Circle, there are enchanted sands in this desert that can strip the flesh from your body and tumble your bones until they are finer than sawdust! By some form of unholy magic, _they can do so while you are still CONSCIOUS!_ I will _personally_ see to it that you encounter these sands _if you or any of your men EVER lay a hand on him again!_" Sadira vowed, eyes boring into Razoul's.

A current of magic was spiking uncomfortably in the room, raising the hairs on the back of Razoul's neck. He'd seen the street mouse on numerous occasions, but this was the first she had ever threatened him and he found that his palms were sweating. "Just doing my job, ma'am," he muttered, signaling to the other guards to lower the chain. Wide-eyed, and muttering prayers to Allah as he was required to draw closer to Sadira, a fat-bellied guard hastened to catch Mozenrath around the waist as the chain became slack. His knees buckled and he started to fall, but a palm to his chest prevented disaster as Sadira carefully removed the chain from his fleshless arm. Aladdin handed Razoul the written pardon from the Sultan and approached them, helping the guard lower Mozenrath from the platform.

He could not stand up on his own, slowly sinking to the floor unless fully supported. He made a thin noise of frustration, wanting out of here and wanting to walk _himself_. Sadira touched his face then, murmuring soothingly, even as she shot murderous glares to any guard unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire. "You're beautiful when you're angry," he slurred mindlessly at her, and she gave him a very dry look.

"And you sound exceptionally drunk when you're in pain." Her face softened. "Come on, Mozenrath, let's get you out of here."

Aladdin turned his back to Mozenrath, putting the wizard's arms over his shoulders and hoisting him onto his back as though he were a child. "No," Mozenrath protested, not liking this at all. "No, this is-"

"Not dignified, I know. But trust me, Mozenrath, you _don't_ want to walk up all those stairs," Aladdin told him. "Not in the state _you're_ in."

"Ugh," Mozenrath commented, but he didn't struggle as Aladdin began to climb the winding path out of the dungeon.

He didn't remember passing out, but he woke up on his stomach on a soft bed, gentle hands placing strips of herb-soaked cloth on the rows of lashes across his back. A woman's voice was singing lowly as she worked and he ached to turn and look at her – to see who it was. To see if it was who he _wanted_ it to be.

"Sadira?" he managed, voice rasping. Allah, he wanted _water_.

A hand stroked through his hair then, the singing stopped. "It's me," she answered and relief coursed through him, even as he heard the grief in her voice. "Mozenrath, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry – if I had known what they were doing to you . . ." She sounded as though she was weeping. Or had been.

"It is not your fault. I've attacked Agrabah many times over. I knew what . . . I knew it wouldn't be just a quiet cell."

A cup touched his lips and he gratefully drank the cool water in small sips, soothing his parched throat.

"Then why did you go?" she asked plaintively. "Why didn't you argue?"

"Because you asked me to. And they were after _me_, not you. If I had just gone home, you may have been in trouble for aiding my escape."

Sadira swallowed and kept stroking his hair. "Xerxes isn't going to forgive me for this. _I_ don't even forgive me."

"Stop that. You didn't know and I didn't choose to tell you. I'll heal. Just . . . just don't leave. Stay with me," he asked, ashamed for asking. He couldn't help it.

"You don't have to watch over me. I'm fine. The Sultan's forgiven you and he even scolded Razoul on your behalf. It was all he _could_ do, the man apparently _was_ 'just doing his job'," she scoffed bitterly. "You can rest though and I'll finish tending your back while you sleep. Then I'll leave you alone, if you want."

Mozenrath was silent for a moment, but when he did speak up, his voice was rough and he sought Sadira's hand with his good one. "I am asking you to stay . . . because I want you _here_. I know you're safe. I . . . I'm . . ." He was terrified. He was utterly terrified that when he next woke up, he would be back on that platform with the lashes raining down and his arm a hornet's nest of agony. The confession was painful but he swallowed his pride and said it. "I _need_ you to stay with me. _Please?_"

She must have caught the fear in his voice, as much as he loathed her seeing his weakness, but she lowered her face next to his and gently kissed his temple. "I'll stay. I'll be here when you wake. Sleep."

It was a good enough promise for Mozenrath. He took a shivering breath and in mere moments, was out like a candle flame.


	3. Chapter 3

Wind swept wide arching paths through the sand and rock of the desert, obliterating all traces of life that had passed through. This was of no consequence to one such traveler, who wasn't the kind to leave footprints anyway. She paused in front of a half-buried obelisk, eyes glinting from beneath her hood.

"Finally . . . after all these years . . ." The figure knelt down, sinking her clawed hands into the sand and scooping away more of the grains to reveal the writing on the structure. According to the glyphs, the box was buried here and she had but to unearth it to claim her prize. Eagerly she began to dig. Within moments, the black lid revealed itself and she clutched at it, slowly pulling it up from its indentation in the rock bed.

So intent was she on her task, Mirage didn't sense the presence of another being observing her. At least, not until it spoke.

"Why hello there, kitten. Found your lost toy in the sand box?"

She hissed and whirled around, clutching the box to her chest. "Chaos?! What are you – I mean, ah . . ." The startled elemental cleared her throat and attempted to smooth down her fur. "What brings your Lordship here to this forsaken patch of desert?" she asked, more smoothly.

"Certainly not the call of nature," Chaos responded, smirking. He jumped up on a nearby rock, lounging across it as though it solely existed for his comfort. "I'm curious as to what you're doing that's oh emso/em important?"

Mirage pursed her lips, hesitating for a moment. It wasn't as though Chaos picked sides. He liked to stir up trouble, to turn things upside down. Which is what she was doing, so hopefully he would be content to watch it unfold rather than get involved. "The chest I've found . . . it contains dragon teeth. The very same that the Phoenican Prince Cadmus used to build his precious Thebes. Each tooth he planted in the ground turned into an armed warrior, one who was indestructible and completely obedient to Cadmus' command. The remaining teeth that weren't sown on the ground were stolen from him, spirited away and cursed by darker gods than that old blowhard Ares."

"Ah. Using a Greek weapon of magic . . . won't that be interesting. Surely Aladdin's magical blue friend will figure out some way to stop it?"

"There's no information he can ferret out, not in any book or scroll or wall-carving. The fools can search if they like, but they will find nothing. I've made sure of that."

"Oh, Mirage, you mean after all this time you've learned to cover your tracks? I'm emever/em so proud – where's a can of celebratory tuna when you need one?" Chaos taunted. Mirage's smile faltered, but she kept her rage in check.

"In any case, the warriors will be under the command of my favorite general. I think the boy deserves . . . now, how did he put it? For magic to be handed to him on a silver platter?" Mirage sighed fondly.

"Question. How can he be your favorite general if he doesn't even know he's fighting for emyou/em?" Chaos asked, flicking his tail.

"Do pawns even know they're emon/em a chessboard?" Mirage laughed. "Mozenrath's been my favorite for a while now. He's ingenious, creative, self-motivated, doesn't play well with others . . . he's got all the right material for a conqueror. It's just too bad that he threw away any chance he'd ever have of destroying Agrabah by himself with that silly promise . . . . But with these warriors, he'll have every advantage and no restrictions."

"Well, those certainly would uphold your end of the bargain. Clever loophole you found, kitten. It's just too bad you're just going to have to find a new favorite to share your toys with."

Mirage opened and shut her mouth. "I don't understand what you mean . . ."

"Don't you wonder emwhy/em I came all the way out here to see what you were after? To see why your nose wasn't still glued to that mirror in Morbia, watching to prevent your 'general' from falling?"

"He's not dead," Mirage hissed, forgetting her deference. "I set up wards to alert me if anything threatened his mortality or health."

"No, he's not dead," Chaos grinned. "Nevertheless, he did emfall,/em in a manner of speaking."

"If he's been captured, then I'll get him out. After all, I got him out of that wretched Genie's deathtrap, made sure he found his buried gauntlet, and I even restored his power overnight when that book-bound wizard used him-"

"My goodness, he's quite bothersome from the sound of it," Chaos remarked, licking his paw. "Do I detect a hint that you actually care for the boy?"

Mirage stiffened, tail puffing slightly at the insinuation. "I do not emcare/em for any emmortal/em, no matter how talented. He is merely useful to me. Hideously unlucky from time to time, but emuseful/em, do you understand?"

Chaos narrowed his eyes. "Careful, kitten. I'm not liking your tone. And anyway, see how useful he is when he's head-over-heels in love." He snickered at Mirage's expression.

"What, you mean the princess? He only wants her because Aladdin has her. What does it matter to me if he lusts after the little tart? He can have her once the city falls."

"Mirage, darling, there's a difference between lust and love. Even emyou/em know that, though I'm sure you're a little rusty in both fields." Her shriek of outrage was music to his ears. "Just sayin'."

"It's impossible for him to fall in love with just anyone!" she hissed.

"Oh ho ho, is it really? Are you sure that emtoken/em you took from him is still locked up nice and tight?" Chaos drew himself up, stretching his wings out nonchalantly. "Because not a few minutes ago, a certain 'just anyone' threw a handful of ashwinder eggs into his face. And it emworked/em."

Mirage grit her teeth. "A love-spell. Annoying, but temporary. I can take care of it."

"Ah, except you can't. A deal's a deal."

Her eyes widened. "A deal . . .? You emcan't/em be serious!" Hastily she transported herself back to Morbia and stood before a gilt mirror. As she hissed a spell, the surface shimmered and showed her Mozenrath's current state. His back had been flayed raw and he shook with fever. A girl was by his side, attempting to soothe him as he gripped her hand, murmuring fitfully.

Mirage stared at the girl's face, snarling as she recognized it. She had made a mistake to allow her to live, let alone to remain in Agrabah. Had the little witch caused these injuries to Mozenrath? If so, how ironic, considering all the boy had done for her.

No matter. She'd never know, and he'd never remember. Mirage waited until the girl got up and left, looking panicked. Obviously calling for a healer; Mozenrath's state had seemed to worsen. She knew the slices across his back would fester and kill him, even with the best physicians' care.

Living in a cold, sunless land had never been good for his health; he was always so frail. That was the tragically annoying thing about the few mortals she valued; they were so . . . well, emmortal/em. In any case, Mirage valued his mind over his physique. She had entertained the thought of binding his essence to his skull and keeping it around for company in Morbia when the gauntlet eventually killed him.

But she didn't want him dead right emnow/em. Not when there was still so much to do; he had an army to lead for her. Mirage put a hand on the glass, sending her magic to heal his body. Skin closed and infection oozed out, the magic burning it away. He cried out in pain, writhing, but soon the skin on his back was whole and his fever was abating. He sank back into the bed, lapsing into a deep sleep.

The skeletal arm remained of course; Mirage liked the look of it and the gauntlet would have eaten it away again. Speaking of which, where emwas/em the wretched thing? Mirage sighed irritably, locating it locked up tight in the Sultan's treasure room. How predictable.

"You give that back to him and he'll probably be dead by morning," Chaos said, hanging upside down in midair next to her head. Mirage nearly jumped out of her skin, screeching in alarm. "Sorry," he said, sounding anything but. "Anyhow I'm truly starting to suspect that gauntlet just eats him because it's embored/em."

"But he's defenseless! He needs a weapon to escape captivity."

"I'd say he enjoys being a captive too much to escape. Just look at him laying there."

"He's unconscious," Mirage said flatly.

"I know. It's the most relaxed I've emever/em seen him. Maybe you should let him sit this one out?"

She dismissed that with a wave of her hand. "This is the fight he's been waiting for. The destruction of Agrabah is within his reach; I can't imagine a simple love spell getting in the way of his ambition. What does the girl think she's doing, trying to snare him with a spell? She doesn't remember him – she can't!" Mirage turned a suspicious look on Chaos. "You didn't happen to have anything to do with such a chance meeting, did you?"

"Excuse you? I'm Chaos, not Cupid. The whole star-crossed lovers meeting again and making a connection is emso/em overdone. However, the emvillain/em getting the girl . . . that's different. I like it."

"Well emI/em don't," the elemental snarled. "I know what he'll choose. So far he's been tortured at the hands of Agrabah's people; it's only a matter of time before he comes to his senses. And when he does, I'll be there to remind him of who he's meant to be."

"Eh. Just so long as he doesn't figure out who he emwas/em." Chaos shrugged. "Then your little wager with Phasir is lost, isn't it?"

Mirage yowled in anger and slammed her clawed fist at a statue, knocking it over. It was a far better idea than striking out at Chaos. "You leave that decrepit old emfossil/em out of this!"

Unconcerned, Chaos shrugged. "As you wish. But now that you've dug up those dragon's teeth, you know they've got a short shelf life. The curse that bound them in that box is more powerful than even you can fight, as all the others have learned. Best make your move soon, before they're reclaimed. Who'll be your general for now?"

"Ugh. You're right, I'll need a few emexpendables/em until he's shaken off this foolishness. It will be a sweet victory to see him crush Agrabah to dust, in front of the girl he swore he loved," she chuckled.

Chaos only sighed, almost fondly. "You always were most pathetic when delusional."

Mirage gasped at the direct insult and turned to snap at him, only to find empty air where the winged entity had been lounging.

"I can't understand it," Aladdin muttered, looking over the wizard's previously mauled form. "If neither Genie nor Sadira healed him, then who or what did?"

"Forget about asking why!" The parrot flew over to land on the headboard, glaring down at the sleeping wizard. "When it comes to magic, looking a gift horse in the mouth never ends well for anyone! Maybe it was his Gauntlet. Maybe the flying gumbo dish has dormant healing powers – the point is, who emcares?/em"

"emI/em care," Sadira interjected fiercely. "It could have been a gift given at a higher cost. What if it emwas/em the Gauntlet? Then maybe the flesh from emanother/em limb is going to disappear overnight!"

"Ewwww!" Iago complained, hiding his face under a wing. "That's not an image I needed this close to dinner!"

"Sadira has a point," Jasmine conceded, ignoring the bird. "We don't know the true motive behind this act. I'd like to believe it's benevolent, but just leaving it to chance could be a mistake. Genie, can you find out what happened?"

"On it!" The djinn was already scoping the room with a strange beeping device in his hand, dressed like a bespectacled man with a white pompadour and a long face. "The PKE readings are getting stronger . . ." he muttered.

Sadira looked distraught and Aladdin frowned, wondering if the same spell that had affected Mozenrath was doing a number on her too. "Hey . . . he'll be okay. In the meantime, you should get some sleep."

"I promised nothing else would happen to him. I shouldn't have left to get help."

Aladdin gently took her by the shoulders. "None of this was your fault. You couldn't have known everything that was going to happen. You're not a seer, okay? The best you can do for him right now is to be rested and to not worry yourself sick over 'what ifs'." He was worried that Sadira seemed to be getting so attached to Mozenrath. He really was the worst type of person for someone like her to fall in love with. Mozenrath was cruel, heartless. He'd see her affection and use it for his own gain, and Sadira's low self esteem would enable him to.

Right now the wizard was enamored, but what would happen when the spell wore off? Maybe it had already. In the morning, Mozenrath may very well be back to his old self. Sadira sighed and nodded. "You're right, Aladdin. It's no use worrying; what's done is done. But I'm not leaving this room. He all but begged me to stay."

"If you want to sleep here that's fine, but Genie's staying with you, just in case of another surprise."

And speaking of surprises, a long grayish-purple shape flew in through the window. Xerxes knocked Iago off his perch as he passed, heedless of the bird's indignant squawk, and squealed when he saw Mozenrath, diving down to wrap around him. "Mozenrath well! Sleeping!" he cried joyously, squeezing the man's shoulders with his coiled body in a strange sort of embrace.

"Well not for long with emthat/em racket!" Iago retorted, ruffling dust out of his feathers.

"Master in deep sleep. No wake. Healing sleep," Xerxes informed them, sniffing at Mozenrath. "Good magic," he said, approvingly. Sadira visibly relaxed.

"It wasn't the Gauntlet?"

"Gauntlet no heal," scoffed the familiar. "Gauntlet just take. Punish. Eat Master's life. But Master weaker and weaker, and need Gauntlet more and more. Gauntlet is very bad magic. But other magic heal Mozenrath; good magic. Heal him when flying cage finally land."

"Flying cage?" Sadira asked, confused. Aladdin and Genie both winced.

Xerxes gave them a cool stare and looked back at the witch. "Genie put Mozenrath into cage without Gauntlet, make him fly very far away from Agrabah for days. No food, no water, too much sun. Flying cage land emeventually/em because Genie not allowed to kill."

Aladdin could hardly bear the look Sadira was giving him. It was a look of bewildered disappointment, her eyes silently begging for an explanation. Genie, likewise, had turned back into his normal shape. He was rubbing the back of his neck, looking small and embarrassed. But before Aladdin could speak, Xerxes coughed and spoke up again.

"This happen after Master try to steal hero's body and destroy soul with spell. Hero not too happy. Master desperate, made bad decision."

He looked at the eel, surprised Xerxes had admitted that much. But still, it didn't justify how cruelly Mozenrath had suffered for the punishment he had allowed Genie to dole out. "I didn't think about what could happen. I didn't want to kill him or hurt him, I just wanted him to go away," he told Sadira, ashamed. "To be contained for a while, and unable to do harm."

"And I often forget how fragile mortals are," Genie murmured. "Especially when it comes to wiz kid over there. Yeesh, no wonder he hates us."

The witch sighed, softening a little. "So it's not just him. There's been mistakes all around, I take it?"

Iago puffed up. "Yeah, maybe, but Mozenrath's done way worse than any of us! Sure Al and Genie went a little nuts with the big bird cage, but at least that wasn't emintentional!/em"

"I'm sure it wasn't," Sadira sighed. "But this emisn't/em a contest about who's better than anyone else. If you bring up something, he'll bring up something, and around and around it will go, probably until it escalates out of control. As far as I'm concerned, he's already been punished for everything, thanks to Razoul. And if emthat's/em not enough, think about what we're doing right now – all of us. We're using his feelings for me – his emotional vulnerability – to make an ally of him. Yes it's only a spell, but that doesn't make it any less real to emhim/em. I'm pretty sure we're emall/em on even ground right now."

Everyone was silent, except for Iago's hems and haws. But eventually, the parrot fell silent and just frowned, mulling it over. Out of all of them, he knew having one's past brought up and rubbed in one's face was no picnic either.

"Okay Sadira, you're right. Nobody here is going to rag on him for the past. Not when we can help him."

She raised an eyebrow at Aladdin's choice of words. Sadira loved her friends, but sometimes the things they did and said just floored her. "We aren't trying to emhelp/em him, Aladdin. We're doing this because we want him on our side, and we're using a rather unfair magic spell to our advantage. Trying to rationalize all that as 'helping' him, or anybody, goes way beyond arrogance."

The words came out a little sharper than she meant and Sadira didn't miss the suspicious look that crossed over her friends' faces. "Sadira," Jasmine asked carefully. "emYou're/em not becoming attached . . .?"

Sadira couldn't help a smile, even though she was a little upset that they were all remembering her earlier foolishness and obsession with Aladdin. "I'm aware I'm naïve and trusting sometimes, but I'm not stupid. If it wasn't for that spell, Mozenrath would have turned me into a pile of scorched sand. Trust me, that's not something I'll forget. But if we're going to do this, please believe me when I say that the 'holier than thou, just trying to help' attitude really needs to go. Spell or not, Mozenrath isn't gonna be too shy to tell us where we can stick our 'good intentions.' It's what I'd do, and I get the feeling I'm a heck of a lot nicer than he is."

Xerxes snickered from the bed. "Witch not foolish. Mozenrath hate 'do gooders'."

"Wait, how is the eel okay with all of this?" Iago questioned. "Shouldn't you be threatening to tell Mozenrath about all our 'dastardly do gooder' plans?"

The eel shrugged piteously. "Master no listen. Spell too strong. Hopelessly smitten."

The solemn gravity with which the familiar said those last two words was too much. The tension in the room dissolved as Iago fell off his perch, fairly crying with laughter. "Hopelessly smitten! emMozenrath!/em"

Bothered for reasons she didn't care to explain, Sadira hissed for quiet. It wasn't really a laughing matter. Aladdin and Jasmine at least seemed to pick up on her discomfort. "We'll see you in the morning, Sadira," Jasmine said kindly. She looped her arm through Aladdin's and they walked out into the corridor. Abu rolled the still hysterical Iago through the doorway, muttering in irritation. Genie grinned at her. "If you need me, just shout!" He turned himself into a wisp of smoke and soon she could hear faint snoring coming from the lamp, which had appeared on a cushion.

Sadira made herself up a bed on the nearby cot and wondering, not for the first time, what she'd gotten herself into.


End file.
